


Tranquil

by minwrathous



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Prompt Fill, Rite of Tranquility, Time Skips, Tranquil Hawke, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 11:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16853536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minwrathous/pseuds/minwrathous
Summary: A life is sundered. A relationship is changed. Moments picked from a journey.Can they be whole again?





	Tranquil

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to those lovely artists who came at me with Tranquil Hawke art. I returned the favor.

“Hawke.”

His own name is the first thing he hears after the sundering. He had been left alone in the darkness. Now, there is light. Familiar faces.

Then they _see_ him. There are tears. Shouts. A wail. Hawke hears it, but feels nothing. It’s too late. He had been taken and then broken.

It is Fenris who leads their final charge through the Gallows that day. Hawke follows because there is no better way. None of the people he once called friends can bear to look at him. Hawke knows he makes them uncomfortable now. He knows, but does not care.

When it is over, they flee the Gallows. There, on the docks, there is hurried talk of what they should do with Hawke. It isn’t safe for any of them now, especially not the Champion, broken as he is. When one suggests putting him to the knife, chaos erupts. Hawke watches and doesn’t flinch. He knows he once told them he’d rather die than become Tranquil. But now he does not feel that conviction.

Before the argument even ends, Fenris takes him by the hand and pulls him away.

“Where are you taking him?” Varric demands. His voice had been the loudest in speaking out against Hawke’s killing.

“Does it matter?” Fenris hisses. He had remained silent while the others fought. Now, his gauntlet is sticky with Templar blood and the tips dig into Hawke’s hand. “Do not follow us.”

 

* * *

 

Fenris takes him away from the docks then, back to Hightown and Hawke’s empty home. Fenris packs quickly and snaps at Hawke to change his clothes. Hawke obeys. They soon leave the estate and are out of Kirkwall by nightfall.

They camp along the coast, and in the distance smoke rises from the City of Chains.

Hawke wakes that night to a pressure in his chest. The tent they’re sharing is lit by the cold blue glow of Fenris’s brands. The elf is straddling him and his hand is thrust into Hawke’s chest.

“You told me once to kill you if you were made Tranquil,” Fenris says. There are tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes reflect the eerie light of his brands. “You made me promise.”

Hawke feels the pain as his heart is held in Fenris’s hand. It is abstract to him, merely his body’s way of telling him he is about to die. He would prefer not to be experiencing it. Fenris squeezes a little tighter and Hawke lets out a choked gasp.

“Say something,” Fenris demands. His voice is shaking.

“I do not wish to die,” Hawke replies. It is a dull whisper.

Fenris wavers. He releases his hold on Hawke and pulls his hand out with a guttural cry. He breaks then. His body is wracked with sobs as he clings to Hawke, buries his face against the other man’s neck. Hawke lays there quietly. Breathes.

Fenris is silent the next morning. He does not look at Hawke as they both pick up the camp. “We’re going north,” Fenris eventually says as they set off together along the coast. Hawke does not care. He will follow wherever Fenris leads.

There is no love left there. No affection. But Hawke knows Fenris. He knows him and trusts him. There is a certainty that Fenris will keep Hawke safe. After all, it is easier to follow him than it is to be on his own.

 

* * *

 

Time passes and they make their way farther north into the Free Marches. Fenris has come around to looking at Hawke now. He speaks to Hawke cordially, and Hawke always speaks back. There are still nights when Hawke wakes up to that phantom hand around his heart. Hawke accepts this, and Fenris never follows through.

There is one night when Hawke wakes to a new feeling - lips against his skin. Wetness. Tears and spit as Fenris desperately kisses him. After a moment, Fenris pulls away and apologizes. He puts distance between them again.

Hawke would allow more if Fenris wished it. Hawke would not mind or care. The act would comfort Fenris, and not be unpleasant for Hawke himself. In a former life, Hawke would have been eager for it. Now, it would just be a function.

There are no more kisses after that.

 

* * *

 

They are being attacked by bandits when Hawke shows that he is capable of defending himself. While Fenris is engaged, Hawke takes a quarterstaff from a fallen bandit and uses it to dispatch another. From then on, Fenris trains him. Hawke no longer has magic, but he has his strength and reflexes.

More time passes and they are in Antiva. Hawke wears a hood to hide his brand while Fenris wears leather armor to hide his own. They’ve taken to raiding any slavers they come across. Hawke is proficient in combat now. He is focused. Efficient. Soon Fenris has them actively pursuing the slavers. Perhaps it would be safer for Hawke to settle in one place and quietly exist.

Hawke follows Fenris. It is what he knows.

 

* * *

 

They are in Rivain when the sky is torn open somewhere in Ferelden. Fenris ignores the news from the south; it doesn’t concern them.

Months later, they are back in Antiva when a letter somehow reaches them.

“How did he find us?” Fenris grumbles. Hawke doesn’t ask who. As Fenris reads the letter, his eyes widen in shock. Hawke watches him.

Hawke does not ask why they leave on a ship the following day.

 

* * *

 

Weeks later, they cross a bridge that leads into a castle called Skyhold. There, they find Varric Tethras, who still can’t quite look at Hawke.

“Is it true?” Fenris demands in lieu of a greeting. “There is a cure?”

“It’s true,” Varric nods. He finally looks at Hawke.

They wait while the preparations for the ritual are completed. The Inquisitor is a proficient spirit healer, but it takes time to find a spirit willing to help them. Fenris voiced his displeasure regarding the ritual’s methods, but has grudgingly agreed. Hawke does not care either way.

 

* * *

 

Fenris and Hawke meet another Tranquil in the library while they are waiting. Fenris asks her why she has not gone through the ritual herself. She says that she declined the offer when it was offered. She does not wish for the pain she will experience after its completion - she thinks that her life will overwhelm her. Fenris looks to Hawke, who is silently processing the answer.

The night before the ritual, Fenris pulls Hawke aside. “Do you want this?” he asks. He will not force this on Hawke, not if Hawke says no.

Hawke thinks about his past self. He understands how he used to think and feel. It’s abstract. Distorted. Like looking at something through a thick pane of glass, but being unable to touch it or fully see what it is. He knows that his past self would have said  _yes!_ without a second thought. He would have been willing to live with any consequences.

But is that who he is now? Does he even have a self anymore? What will the world be like when he can fully experience it again? Hawke does not deal in uncertainty now. And everything might hurt too much. But…

“I do not mind it,” Hawke finally answers. “I will manage afterward.”

That is enough for Fenris.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, they take Hawke to a dimly lit room. He sits in a chair next to a table that holds a stone bowl of lyrium. The rest of the room is sparse. Varric, Fenris, and the Seeker are the only witnesses. The Inquisitor stands behind Hawke and magic begins to pour from their hands.

They reach in and gently touch Hawke’s head. Hawke can feel the magic buzzing around him. He can… _feel_.

Something else is touching him now. Filling him. And for the first time in years, Hawke can  _feel_ the magic moving over his skin. He inhales and it’s like he’s taking his first breath.

The Inquisitor pulls away from Hawke now; it has taken them a mere number of minutes to unravel the past five years of Hawke’s life.

Everything rushes over Hawke. Flashes of life before his sundering. Flashes of life since. Everything blurs together, swirling and pulsing and threatening to overwhelm him. Every laugh. Every hurt. Every kiss. Tears fall from his eyes and he begins to shake. He sags forward in the chair.

Strong arms suddenly embrace him and a familiar warmth settles between his legs. Fenris is kneeling on the floor in front of him, holding him up. Holding him close. Hawke clings to Fenris and lets out his first shuddering sob.

“Hawke,” Fenris croaks.

His name is the first things he hears after he is whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> ...but of course I couldn't just leave him like that.


End file.
